Brightest Star
by Killarny
Summary: They thought they squashed the rebellion, but they were wrong. Three months after the failed execution of Cal and Mare, the Scarlet Guard is far from defeated. This story takes place after Red Queen.
1. Chapter 1

" _I can save you", he whispers through the bars. Blue eyes I once thought soft are now hard and intense. In the adjacent cell, Cal watches us mutely, fists clenched at his sides._

 _I try to tug my wrist out of Maven's grasp, but he is too strong. With the Silent Stone suffocating my lightning, I'm nothing but a weak girl. After finally getting used to being special, suddenly being normal again makes me sick._

" _You're a murderer, Maven" I hiss with as much venom as I can muster. "You killed your father and made your brother a weapon. The crown you wear is cursed, and I want no part of it."_

 _He lets go and I stumble backwards just beyond his reach. Slowly, his hands retreat to his pockets. He keeps his eyes on mine though, studying me. A hint of sneer tugs at his mouth as he cocks his head to one side._

" _Ah yes, my brother," he snarls at Cal, who remains stoic. "It's funny how often we come back to him, isn't it? Don't kid yourself, Mare, Cal was always a weapon." He stalks, cat-like, in front of Cal's cage. "A good soldier is never more than a weapon, after all." He stops and glares into his brother's face. "You would never be king."_

 _Cal moves without warning, snatching through the bars at Maven's collar. Maven's eyes barely have time to widen before his face connects with the metal. I wince at the yelp of pain that follows. Instinctively, I rush to the bars as he stumbles back from us, clutching as his face._

" _Maven?" I question, peering into the dim shadows at his cracked skull. He is panting, slightly doubled over with his hand over his left eye. Silver blood oozes between his fingers as he focuses once more on me._

" _I am king, I can do anything," he says, more to himself it seems than to me. "Be my Red Queen, Mare." A slight inflection in his voice at my name feels almost like a breathless plea. Almost._

 _I hesitate. Unwanted memories suddenly assault me. Dancing at the ball, feeling like we were the only two in the room. Riding into the city for the first time, Maven excitedly pointing out his favourite childhood spots. His lips on mine._

 _I shake my head to clear that last memory. Maven's good eye darkens as he mistakes the gesture._

" _Then die."_

With a deep gasp of air, I bolt upright in bed. I blink rapidly to dispel the fog of the nightmare. No, that's not how it happened, I tell myself sternly. Every night the nightmare returns, and every night it is different. Sometimes I break through the Silent Stone's hold and fry Maven alive. Sometimes it's Cal on the other side of the bars, and Maven is in the cage next to mine. Sometimes I say yes.

 _His lips on mine_... that memory, it seems, is determined to stay exactly as it was. Warm and passionate, tinged with a desperation I didn't understand at the time. Now I do. He knew just how little time we had left.

"Bastard," I whisper, gripping the rough blanket in my hands.

A groan and a movement startle me as the body next to me rolls over. "Really, Mare, there's no need for name-calling. Get your own blanket." My brother, Shade, tugs his blanket out of my startled hands and, tightly wrapping himself up like a cocoon, sighs back into sleep.

I gulp, willing my heart rate to slow down and my sleepy brain to get with it. I am safe, I am with my family, it is okay. Quietly, I shift of the makeshift cot, trying not to wake anyone else. On my other side, Gisa lets out an unladylike snore and mutters some gibberish. Peering through the darkness, I see only three sleeping forms. My mother and other two brothers must already be on duty.

I creep to the edge of our hovel and grab my boots on my way out. Just before leaving, I turn back to take one look at my sleeping relatives. I repeat my mantra silently. I am safe, I am with my family, it is okay.

Outside, the ground is cold and crunchy, bitten with frost. It is mid-winter now, and the Northern woods are stricken with it. I shiver in my thin clothes and reach back inside for my shawl. A heavy canvas flap that is all that separates our new home from the elements and I tug it tightly back into place before continuing on my way.

It must be around seven, I realize, noticing the pale hint of sunlight at the base of the horizon. I will be early for my shift. The thought makes me pause in my tracks. I actually have time for breakfast this morning. I abruptly turn on my heel and head the other direction.

It has been three months since I survived my execution. About two and a half months since we first came here to the Northern woods. After we had unwittingly betrayed the original location of the rebel home base to our enemy, we had to make a hasty getaway. Maven's soldiers were already there when our train stopped and we were immediately thrown into another battle for our lives. We brought as many Red survivors and supplies as we could find, the ancient runes blazing around us as we ran. Two weeks of travel on foot brought us to base camp two, in the Northern forest owned by no country. Our timing was perfect, as access to the woods becomes impassable in winter. Even if Maven and his witch of a mother figure out where we are, they won't be able to do anything about it until spring. I smile grimly at the thought. They probably wouldn't expect us to survive until spring.

The Northern woods are owned by no country for a reason. They are wild, thick, and hostile. Winter hits hard here, harder than should be possible, given the geographical location. Jagged mountains surround the woods like Maven's sharp crown, forming a dark, shaded valley that is untouched by warmth for most of the year. The wildlife here has been protected in it's seclusion and beasts dwell here that I thought had long passed into myth. The land may be fertile but since it is frozen most of the time, it does little good. Only the truly desperate would make a home here.

The smell hits me first as I stroll into the "kitchen". The kitchen is an open area surrounded by a tall, fort-like fence. The fence is to keep out the bears, mostly. Inside, small huts have been erected over cooking fires to keep the weather from putting them out. In the centre, a few early risers are seated at rough wooden tables, bent over whatever is going to pass for breakfast this morning.

I glance around the cooking huts, looking for my mother. She is on cooking duty this morning. I spot her near the back, ladling some chunky liquid into a clay bowl. I grimace at the sight of the food but head over that direction anyway. It's not my mother's cooking that's terrible, it's what she has to work with. None of the other huts will be offering anything better.

"Hey, mom," I greet her as I approach, a smile fixed on my face despite the aroma coming from the pot. She looks up mid-ladle, startled.

"Mare, what are you doing here?" she looks justifiably confused. I am not a morning person and even less of a breakfast person. I'm more the make-it-to-work-barely-on-time-with-my-shoes-on-the-wrong-feet kind of person.

"Couldn't sleep," I say, accepting the bowl she presses into my hands. Her face clears, understanding that at least.

"The same nightmare?" she asks quietly, returning to the pot. I nod, even though it's not exactly true. After accidentally waking up the family several times in the middle of the night, I told them I kept having nightmares about the execution, fighting for my life in the pit. Which is near the truth. It makes more sense than the truth. Why I keep dreaming of the last time I spoke with Maven is beyond me. You'd think the whole near death experience thing would be a greater trauma.

I clear my throat. "So anyway," I say brightly. "I thought I would come sample breakfast today." She casts a woeful, apologetic look at the bowl in my hands and my heart sinks a bit. But I keep the smile in place as I swallow the stuff. It tastes like stewed bark mulch. Glancing down at the bowl, I think it might just be.

More sleepy rebels are lining up at the huts now, and my mother gets busy, filling bowls and greeting everyone by name. Everyone knows everyone here. Since she's busy, I glance around at the growing crowd, my thoughts shifting. I see one of the rebels on guard duty at one of the far huts, putting a bowl of food on a tray. I realize with a jolt that is probably Cal's breakfast. At least they're feeding him...

I haven't seen Cal since we came to the Northern woods. I stayed close to him while we travelled, making sure he wasn't mistreated, but he was taken from me when we arrived. Farley won't let me see him. She tells me he is being treated as well as can be expected, but will not specifically promise me they are not torturing him. I don't know where they are keeping him, but if that guard is bringing him his breakfast...

Slowly, I rest my spoon in my half-empty bowl and slide off the bench. The guard doesn't appear to be watching for followers. After all, who else would care about the broken prince? The guard turns and heads out the entrance, unaware that he is being followed. Electricity tingles in my fingertips in excitement. Cal... I could be moments away from seeing him again.

I make it halfway to the gate before a red blockade parks herself in front of me. I curse quietly in dismay as I stare into Farley's frowning face. She looks extra grumpy today. Maybe she's not a morning person either.

"Going somewhere, little lightning princess?" she asks, sarcastically. I grimace inwardly at the new twist on the old nickname, but my feelings don't show on the surface. I arrange my features into what I a hope passes for bored non-nonchalance.

"Just my shift at the power plant, Captain Farley, sir," I mutter, moving to pass her. She gracefully steps in my path again. I step back and cross my arms, irritated and showing it now. I don't know what her problem is. Ever since we got here she has been keeping me away from Cal, from her plans, from news of King Maven and his new monarchy. Instead of being part of the team, I have been pushed to the back of the crowd. I have my shift work at the power plant, and I participate in combat training with all the other Reds, but I am kept out of the loop in every important aspect. What do they think I'm going to do, break Cal out of here? What good would that accomplish? I just want to know he's alright.

"Is there a problem, Farley?" I ask sharply. My foot taps against the frozen earth.

She searches my face for a moment, deciding something. "The plant will have to do without you, today," she says finally. "You're coming with me."

My foot stops. "Where? Why?"

Her mouth tightens a moment before replying. "Your prince wants to see you."


	2. Chapter 2

I follow Farley as she winds through the trees, silent. I do not want to ask her what has changed her mind so suddenly. She could just as easily change it back. But my fingertips spark at my sides. Thoughts I have tried to suppress over the last couple of months resurface. Have they hurt him? I glare at Farley's back. I will kill her if they've hurt him.

She looks back at me suddenly, smirking. Farley may not have any supernatural ability, but she sure does have an uncanny sixth sense and must feel my glare. I look away hastily.

"You must be anxious to see him," she says, coming to a stop in front of a large, thorny bush. She crosses her arms and watches me carefully. I look left and right, but I don't see anything that could hide a prison. What is she up to?

My hands are sparking brighter now, and I stuff them in my pockets. She notices and her eyes grow bright with amusement.

"Where is he?" I ask finally. My voice is calm, to my surprise.

"We are close," she shrugs, "but we need to have a quick word first." My eyes narrow. "Your prince is stubborn, Mare, and we haven't been able to get much out of him." She holds up her hands defensively. "We have not tortured him. We have tried to get him to see reason, but despite everything that has happened, he still holds onto the ideas he's been taught." She runs a hand through her hair, clearly frustrated. "We want him as an ally, Mare, not a prisoner. He's no good as a hostage." This is true. Who would want him? Certainly not Maven and his mother, and even his own soldiers turned against him after his father was killed. My heart drops as I remember the look on Cal's face when they refused to even acknowledge his goodbyes.

"And what do you want from me?" I ask. "You've made it quite clear you don't trust me." She winces.

"It's not that, Mare, it's..." she sighs, "if it weren't for Cal, I would trust you implicitly. But I do have to question your loyalty when it comes to him. Your little _romance_ cost a lot of lives." Her eyes are intense, daring me to deny it.

But I can't. We nearly destroyed everything. "I know," I accept it quietly. "But it's over Farley. I betrayed him and he betrayed me. Our..." I search for the right word, anything but _romance_ , " _relationship_ was toxic. I care about him, and I always will," I admit, "but I will not sacrifice our cause for him."

She relaxes a bit, as much as she ever does. " _Our_ cause?" She repeats. I nod.

"Then I need you to do something for me, Mare. I need you to convince him that our cause is his cause. Maven is evil and is destroying the country. I just got word that he is about to start executing random Reds weekly as a scare tactic. We cannot allow this continue. We need him as an ally," she repeats. "But he is refusing to speak to us anymore until he sees you." She searches my face eagerly. "Will you help me convince him?"

My head is spinning. Random executions? What is Maven thinking? This will destroy the people's faith in him, which is something I once thought was important to him. Unless that was a lie too. But privately, I suspect this is more his mother's idea.

I nod. "I'll help you."

She smiles and tugs the bush aside, beckoning at me to follow. Despite the thorns, her hands are unscratched. I brush my fingers over them as I pass and am surprised to find that while they look sharp, they just bend to any pressure. An excellent deterrent to a hiding place. Behind the bush, we find ourselves on a stoney cliff. I look around in confusion. The stony ground is covered with low-growing weeds and a few small rocks. Nowhere to hide a prince. I look to Farley, the question in my eyes but she only gives me a sly smirk. I watch in horror as she steps back, _over the cliff_.

"Farley!" I yell, scrambling towards the edge. I look below, expecting to see her horribly mangled body broken on the rocks. Instead, strong hands suddenly grab me under my arms and pull me down. My scream is quickly muffled against a man's chest. I am shaking as he holds me away from him and I look up into a familiar face.

"Kilorn?" He smiles at me warmly, not noticing that he just scared the life out of me. I had no idea he was one of Cal's guards. He's never mentioned it, all this time. I glance at Farley. It seems I'm not the only one he is loyal to anymore. We are standing on a second cliff, about eight feet below the other one. Far below us, I can see the rocky bottom. Another man, who I don't recognize, stands beside a deep crack in the cliff face. His arms are crossed and he is silently laughing at me. I scowl. I don't know who he is, but I don't like him at all.

"Come, Mare," Farley jerks her head and I follow her in a hole in the rock. The dark passage inside is narrow and very tight. It is a good thing we've all been underfed for weeks. I follow her through a particularly tight crevice into an open cave that to my surprise, is lighted. There is no furniture in the room (I guess they couldn't have brought any through the tunnel), but there is a circle of cushions on the floor. Papers and books lie in neat piles and maps, both general and specific, have been attached to the walls. Electric lights on strings have been strung around the room. I am surprised to see electricity being used here. Our "power plant", such as it is, puts out very little power and is usually saved for the heat lamps in the greenhouse and the small medical centre. Pretty much the entire camp uses fire for heat, light and cooking.

I glance around the cave, but there is still no Cal to be seen. Farley continues through another tunnel to our left, down a rocky path that is almost like stairs. Periodically, small electric lights have been placed along the ground, but they are not enough to really conquer the darkness. I hear water dripping and shiver. He's down _here_?

And then finally I see him, sitting cross-legged in a make-shift cage barely big enough for a large dog. My chest suddenly hurts. They call this not torturing him?

"Cal!" I cry, rushing past Farley. She doesn't stop me as I drop to my knees and reach through the bars.

He looks up and tears well up in my eyes. They haven't cut his hair or let him shave, and he looks like a caveman. He is filthy and dishevelled, and he has lost as much weight as the rest of us. He looks ten years older.

"Mare," he breathes, reaching out for me. He clasps my hands in his and gives them a gentle squeeze.

I look at Farley, furious. "Open this cage," I command. To my surprise, she obliges, nodding to a guard. He shuffles forward with the keys. The cage is barely open before I am in Cal's arms. I choke back my sobs, well aware we are being watched. I can feel his ribs beneath his rags and his uncombed beard brushes my cheek. He smells terrible.

"We'll give you some privacy," Farley says from behind me. I am surprised and turn to watch them all step away. I wasn't expecting any privacy, especially with the cage being open. I realize suddenly the reason for the electric lights instead of torches. Cal could use the fire. But, while they don't know I can create electricity within myself, surely they must realize I could use the electricity in the lights. Oh... it's a test.

"Mare," Cal brings my attention back to him. He smiles softly and caresses my face tenderly. I smile back tearfully.

"Hey, Cal," I whisper, looking over his face carefully for bruises or other tell-tale signs of abuse. There aren't any, and I am relieved. I lean into his chest with a sigh. "I've missed you."

His hand brushes my hair. He is trembling. "I've missed you too," his lips brush against the top of my head.

I let myself rest in his arms for a minute more, then regretfully pull away. He resists, wanting to keep me to himself, but there are things that need to be said.

"Cal," I say firmly, "we need to talk." He sighs softly but nods.

"What has my brother been up to?" He asks wearily. He frowns when I shake my head.

"I don't know," I explain, "I've been kept out of the loop for the past two months." He looks confused and I add, "Farley didn't trust me, on your account."

His faces clears in understanding, his hands squeezing mine in apology. I shake my head. "It's alright, I understand why she did it. But she just told me today that Maven is starting to execute random Reds weekly as a demonstration." It's hard to tell in this light, but I think Cal's face goes a shade lighter, which I think mean he's flushing in anger.

"Cal, we have to stop him. We have to put our past feelings aside and help the Guard."

He frowns and looks down at the ground, avoiding my gaze. "They haven't exactly treated me as an ally," he says gruffly.

"I know," I say quietly. Can he even stand in this cage? Have they let him see the sun in months? "But Cal... they are all we've got. They have people everywhere. They can find the others like me. They can win. _We can win_." He must see the logic, he just has to.

But he is silent, lost in his own thoughts. I give him time. I have a painful thought of my own- what if he doesn't trust me? He could believe I've been in on his imprisonment all along. _Please,_ I beg him silently. _Trust me._

His shoulders straighten and a determined look comes to his face. He smiles at me, the strongest smile I've seen in a long time. My heart aches. The last time he smiled like that at me, there was something magical between us.

"Let's take him down," he says, pulling me into his arms once more. "You and me," he whispers into my hair. I can't stop a few tears spilling down my cheeks against his chest, but I don't correct him. Not now.

...

Maven stares out the window, chin in his hand. He watches the snow falling to the ground through half-closed eyes. His thoughts are miles away, as is usual these days. His tumultuous thoughts tumble between two topics: his various new duties as King, and how he got there. Specifically, the weeks before he ascended and who he sacrificed to make his dream- no, his RIGHT- a reality. For it was his right to take what should have been his. Born to royalty but never really apart of it. The second son (he winces at the thought) born to the wrong Queen... always shadowed by his _brother_. Cal, who always loved a battle-field more than a board room. Cal was always himself around soldiers but watching him try connect with the people was painful. Even after the past several months of sneaking out to be amongst them, he just never truly got it. Giving Mare a job was a prime example. What good did it do? Even if she had been a normal Red, saving one girl's life wouldn't make up for the laws, the divide, the cruelty. No, Cal, was an idiot. And Mare...

Well, Mare wasn't a normal Red, was she. _Part Silver, part Red, better than both_ , she had boasted that day in the rebel's camp. He had wanted to hit her that day for her ignorance. Despite living in both worlds for a time, Mare was very one-sided in her viewpoints. _It isn't a perfect world, but it is the one we all have to live in, and for better or worse it is based on a two-class system_ , he thinks bitterly. Any changes would have to be subtle and take time. Cal had told him once that he had tried to explain that to her, and she hadn't taken it well. So Maven had taken the other side of the argument and so won her favour. But he didn't believe in it. It was impossible to suddenly introduce a new level of society to an already volatile mix. Mare seemed to think it would elevate the Reds to be on equal terms. But she was so wrong. It would only demote them further, below Silvers, and above the Silvers would be the new race of... what to call them? Mutants? Mare was a fool.

 _But she's so young_... his eyes soften as he gets his frustration under control. She had grown up in such pathetic circumstances, he reminds himself, with a meagre education. She is selfish, in an ignorant, childish way. He remembers his own years of learning. There wasn't room for fairy tales and rhymes in a Prince's education. His education had been hard and unforgiving, culminating in a trip to the front lines that had been both informative and scarring. Thankfully brief, he had walked away unharmed physically but the emotional trauma would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Yes, Mare was young, even silly in her simplistic ideals. And yet she had something that he, for all his grand education and life experience, is struggling with these days. He doesn't notice, but a small smile tugs at his lips as he remembers the day they spent amongst the commoners. She had been such a natural, without condescension but still managing to awe them with her superiority. She had been beautiful, regal, and he had loved her then. And for the first time, he had felt truly comfortable around the people as well. She would know what to do now, when the capital was in such an uproar. She could have won the hearts of the people and shown them his intentions were good. She should be here by his side.

Where are you, Mare? He looks to the snowy sky outside as if the answer lies there. His soldiers demolished the rebel's hideout, but they did not recover her body. She must have escaped. Are you hurt? Are you cold?

A loud knock at the door jars him from his thoughts. He stands quickly, composing himself. "Enter," he says, straightening his uniform.

The door opens and his mother sweeps into the room. These past few months have been good for Queen Elara, at least. She stands tall and strong and almost sparkles with power. Nothing seems to faze her anymore, not the added responsibilities, not the increased animosity between the classes, not even the blood on her hands. If one mentions the Scarlet Guard in her presence and watches her closely, they may notice her smile tighten ever so slightly. But even to Maven it appears she is confident the Guard is a pestilence that will eventually be overcome.

She strides towards him, regal in her blue and white gown. Since her husband's death, she has worn nothing but her own house colours. She insists her son wear the old colours though. Today he is wearing a new red and black military cut jacket with many gold buttons (most without function) that she had commissioned. The jacket is heavy and ridiculous and he loathes anything that reminds him of the military. And Cal. But Elara beams as she reaches him and looks him over.

"You look excellent, Your Majesty," she gushes, every bit the proud mother. He flashes her a weary half-smile.

"Shall we?" He murmurs, crooking his arm politely so she may take it. She latches on and they head towards the door.

"Are you ready for this?" she asks. She doesn't look at him as they make their way downstairs. She is quite ready herself and would never understand if he said what was truly in his heart.

He doesn't disappoint her. "Of course, mother."

...

Outside, a large crowd has gathered around the gallows. The condemned man stands in the middle, a linen bag over his head. His head is lowered and he doesn't react as Maven steps to the microphone and clears his throat. The crowd turns to him as one entity and he has to keep himself from recoiling. The weariness and hate rolls off them. They despise me, he realizes glumly. He wants to scream at them, _you've done this to yourselves_! But it would do no good. He has offered the commoners a thousand opportunities to hand over the Scarlet Guard and swear allegiance to his crown, but they refuse. Even the proffered conscription release papers have led to fewer tips and turn-ins than he would have expected. The people, it seems, have picked their gods.

"My people," his voice booms across the crowd. "It is with a heavy heart that I have asked you here today. This man," he points to the dead man standing on the podium opposite, "has committed crimes against the crown and must be punished. These," he holds up some scribbles on paper for all to see, "were found at his home two days ago after a neighbour, an excellent citizen, turned him in." He pauses, before adding, "this excellent citizen has received conscription release papers for his two eldest sons and we commend him for his service." It's a lie. There was no tip, there was no loyal neighbour and the papers in his hand were forged by one of his own staff. The man is probably not even guilty of anything. Perhaps the crowd even suspects this, but it doesn't matter. This man is the first victim in an extreme measure he has been forced to take. One Red a week. One Red beheaded, his blood spilled for the country to witness. Hundreds of citizens are forced to attend the show, but it is also broadcast to the entire country. And hopefully, to the Scarlet Guard, wherever they are hiding their cowardly hides.

At one time, executions were done by hanging. It was cleaner, more civilized. But his mother suggested that it might be a more... rousing demonstration if Red blood were spilled. The newly formed council agreed. _The Reds have only seen Silver blood in the Feats for too long_ , as Ptolemus had put it. _It is high time they are reminded what their own looks like_.

Maven clears his throat again, continuing his speech. "This man had a list of names of citizens loyal not to me, but to the Scarlet Guard." He watches the effect the rebels' name has on the crowd and is not pleased. "A list of allies. Enemies to peace, all of them!" He brandishes the papers like a weapon. "Well his loss is our gain, and we now have a list of our enemies. Once a week, one of these people will die." The crowd stirs at his words. "One a week, until the Scarlet Guard turn themselves in. Or," he smiles lethally, "until they are turned in." The crowd is anxious, and a few risk glances at each other. It seems he has their attention now. "I am devastated to have to make this demonstration, but I have no choice. You have my word that the moment the Scarlet Guard is in my hands, I will burn this list and those citizens will be pardoned." He can feel his mother's gaze on his back, burning. This was not part of the speech. But she's not the one they are looking at with murder in their eyes. It doesn't matter anyway since the list is fake. His soldiers will grab one Red a week as an example, guilty or otherwise.

He looks to the masked executioner and nods. The executioner steps forward and kicks at the victim's ankles. The man yelps as his knees hit the wooden boards. The executioner drags him to the edge were a new chopping block has been placed for the occasion. An axe leans against it. With a flourish, the executioner whips the bag off the man's head. The man must be about forty, with greying hair and downcast eyes. He doesn't look like a rebel at all. He was probably a farmer, or a fisherman perhaps.

The execution is quick. Maven instructed the executioner to make it as painless as possible. He'll have to speak to him again about the unnecessary kick. The axe is raised, glittering in the sun, and the head rolls away. Blood covers the boards and the few standing too close to the podium are splattered with it. The crowd is frozen, horrified.

Then a high-pitched wail pierces the air. Everyone turns to the new noise, startled. At the far edge of the crowd, a child is hysterical. Maven stares, astonished. He had expressly instructed no children were to be present. A middle aged woman looks terrified at the attention and bends down to the child, trying to smother his cries against her. Silent tears run down her cheeks as well.

Maven feels a coldness spread through his chest. The man's wife and child? They were supposed to pick someone without a family. He grinds his teeth in anger. It seems someone else has been overriding his orders. What kind of monster makes a child watch his father's execution?

His eyes flick to his mother and he is suddenly nauseous. Her face is as beautiful and composed as ever, but he can see the blood lust in her eyes. She is enjoying this, he realizes in disgust.

And suddenly, he wants to do something that will wipe that composure off her face. His tiny amendment to the speech was a small act of rebellion, but it was pointless, given that the list was fake. He wants to surprise her, and to make some sort of amends for what he has done this day.

"My people," he says, drawing their attention back to him. "What has happened here today has been terrible, and it is my deepest wish that this will not happen again." It is true. "As an act of goodwill, I would like to announce a treat for you all." His mother's eyes are back on him, and a tingle in his head lets him know she is prying. He doesn't give her enough time to stop him. "I would like to announce a celebration." His mind works quickly. "On the first day of spring this year, the capital will hold a festival. The biggest festival you have ever seen. All citizens, Red and Silver alike, are invited to this event. The day will be a holiday for even those who cannot attend." His mother's fury is radiating off of her so he'd better wrap this up fast. "More details will follow later. That is all." He turns away from the microphone and walks quickly inside the palace. His mother, their guards and a few important council members follow as the crowd buzzes with talk amongst themselves.

Meanwhile, across the crowd, the dead man's body is carried away and a servant mops at the stains.


	3. Chapter 3

It's a bright day, in a cold, wintery way. The light is harsh, even through the grey clouds that choke the sky. The wind pierces right through me as I try to regain my footing on the slippery ice to face my opponent.

He is cold too, I can tell. He's trying to hide it, of course, but his smirk seems a little more forced than normal.

"All zapped out there, Mare?" Garrick calls from across the frozen lake. He hops from foot to foot like he's ready for another round, but I think he's just trying to keep warm.

I grind my teeth silently. Garrick is a smug jerk, but I am more irritated with myself. I shouldn't have lost that volley.

I brace myself and call the lightening to my fingertips. "Just giving you a second to shiver in peace," I yell back. He flinches ever so slightly, distracted with his own embarrassment. Now.

Without warning, I spring forward and the lightening leaps from my hands. It arches, purple and jagged, towards him. The softly falling snow evaporates into little purple puffs of steam as it comes into contact. The cold air allows sound to travel far, so I hear Garrick's muttered curse of surprise as he leaps into the air. But he was distracted, and is too slow. My lightening reaches him several feet into the air, and he comes down hard with a scream. The ice cracks beneath him, but doesn't break.

I wince. Okay, so I don't like him. But I didn't mean to hurt him. I run towards him, very ungracefully. I slip just as I reach him, and fall across his legs. He grunts in displeasure.

"First you electrocute me, then you flatten me," he mutters as he slowly sits up. Farley and Harris run up to us, concerned. On the shore, I see Cal watching, but he doesn't join us. The ice isn't safe when fire is around. Chadia, another student, remains seated beside him. She is working though. The cracks in the ice below Garrick have all but disappeared.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly. We are training, not battling. I am supposed to be tempering my lightening, making the voltage only as uncomfortable as a static spark. But I'm afraid I may have put a little more of my dislike of Garrick into my power than I meant to.

"It's fine," he says, his bluster back in full force. He gets to his feet.

"Perhaps it is time for a break?"Farley suggests. "Harris and I could have a go." Beside her, Harris grimaces. He really hasn't been liking this training regiment.

I look across to the shore again. To Cal, to the campfire and the pot of tea it's keeping hot. A break sounds lovely.

"Okay," I say before Garrick can open his mouth. Carefully, I march towards land with as much dignity as I can muster. After a moment, I hear Garrick sigh and follow.

Cal breaks into a small smile as I get near. I reach out a hand and he pulls me up the embankment. It's sweet, but I don't think too much of it, since he helps Garrick up as well. The three of us trudge towards the campfire.

Chadia watches us lazily as we get comfortable around the fire. She sits much farther back than we do. Unlike us, she has no need for the warmth it provides.

Chadia is our resident Ice Queen. While she won't reveal her age, I would guess she's in her late twenties. Unlike the rest of us, she hasn't been displaced. At least, not recently. She was already here, alone, when our little band of rogues decided to make these woods our temporary home. Gave Farley and her crew quite a fright when they found her, apparently. I only met her a month ago, when Farley freed Cal and introduced us to the few "mutants" we have in our camp. Chadia is very quiet about herself and her past. Farley has been surprisingly respectful of her privacy but I can't help but wonder about her. My theory is that her gift, being as powerful and physically obvious as it is, forced her to run from home a long time ago. She certainly can take care of herself and seems to be unaccustomed to human company.

You couldn't look at Chadia for a second and mistake her for normal. She is gorgeous, long-limbed and ebony-skinned, with the slenderest waist I've ever seen on a human being. If that were all, you might think she was from an exotic far-away place in the middle of an ocean. But her hair is pure white. Even her eyebrows and eyelashes are the colour of fresh snow, and always have snowflakes clinging to them. Her eyes are an icy grey. When she looks at you with those eyes, you shiver, no matter how close to the fire you are sitting. And if all that somehow wasn't enough to clue you in, her hands and forearms are covered in lacy gloves of her own ice.

On the lake's frozen surface, Farley and Harris are already sparring. Farley has no powers herself of course, but she is a decent enough match for Harris. Harris has a very strange power. He can make himself... not solid? Or should I say, not able to be impaled? It takes concentration though. If someone crept up behind him and hit him on the head, he would go down like a rock, as we all would. But if he sees his attack coming, a fist, a rock, even a spear will go right through him without harm. It is a very useful power, but so far we've only tested as far as spears and swords go. We have yet to try anything really fast, like a bullet or an arrow.

Then there is Garrick. Ah, Garrick, who is currently babbling over a play-by-play of our last spar with Cal. Cal is patiently listening, but every once in awhile his eyes flick to me in mild exasperation. The way Garrick goes on, it's like he doesn't remember Cal was there, watching the whole thing.

Garrick was the guard I met a month ago outside Cal's prison. The one who thought it was funny when Kilorn pulled me over the edge of the cliff. I didn't like him then, and that first gut feeling I got never went away. He's arrogant in the overcompensating way. We call him the Leaper (or Leper, in certain groups). That's his power. Leaping. Not flying, not teleporting, just jumping. Really high. So far, his record is 24 feet. He also doesn't seem to have a problem with falling. Like a cat, he always lands on his feet and never breaks a bone. Useful, yes. Impressive, sure. But the way he goes on and on about being special, you'd think he could bring back the dead or something.

Garrick stops to take a breath and Cal uses the opportunity to stand up and stretch. "I'm going for a walk," he announces to no-one in particular.

I get up hastily. "Me too," I mutter to the general air. Garrick shrugs and turns to talk to Chadia instead. She gives him a cool glance that would have stopped me mid-sentence, but Garrick is impervious to social cues and keeps rambling.

Cal and I walk away from the fire, into the woods. Snow crunches beneath our feet and the crackling of the cheerful little fire is soon drowned out by the howl of the wind. I pull my coat around me tightly and bow my head into the chill. Cal notices and puts his arm around my back. I don't push him away. His unnatural warmth slowly starts to push out the cold.

I sigh a little and lean into him as we continue deeper into the woods. There are only a few dead, crispy leaves hanging off the tree branches, which do nothing to block the sky's grey light. And with our tracks behind us, we will have no problem finding our way back to the lake. We can enjoy this moment of privacy.

After a few minutes of companionable silence, Cal clears his throat. "Mare, I want to ask you something."

"Mmm?" I say sleepily, trying hard to resist his very inviting shoulder. We've been training for hours now, and I'm starting to feel it.

"Do you miss him?" He asks slowly. His arm tightens unconsciously around me.

I stop. My drowsiness is suddenly gone and I want to cry, scream and laugh all at the same time. Maven? We're going to talk about Maven right now?

Slowly, reluctantly, I pull myself from Cal's arms and face him. I need to respond, but I can't seem to look him in the eye.

"Mare," he says gently, and lifts my chin with a warm finger. Once I look into his eyes, I'm stuck there.

After a moment I come to my senses and pull away, but it's a moment too late. He's seen things in my eyes I didn't want him to see. His eyes reflect my own sadness, but the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth reveals that he saw something he liked there, as well.

 _Get yourself together, Mare_ , I tell myself sternly. We are talking about...

Maven... My beautiful blue-eyed boy. My reoccurring nightmare. Cal's little brother.

"I... miss him," I choke on the words and hate myself for it. Will he judge me?

His eyes soften and a little of the tension releases from his face. Clearly, I've said the right thing.

"I miss him too," he admits quietly. "I miss my brother. We were always together, Mare." He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. It doesn't fall back into order. "We played together, trained together, lived together... how could he so two-faced? Surely it would have slipped out at some point, here and there, throughout all those years?"

I swallow and nod silently. As much as Maven's betrayal hurt and shocked me, it is a hundred times more painful for Cal. I only knew Maven for a matter of months, but Cal has known him his entire life. When did the little prince get swallowed by the monster?

"And yet..." he gaze shifts to the south. "I find I can't get a grip on his evil. His face, that day, with my father..." he has to stop for a moment... "Mare, I'd never seen him make that face before. Surely, surely his mask would have slipped sometime in our childhood?" He seems desperate for something. Reassurance? An alternative analysis for the events that day, something he missed?

But I can't give him anything. I was there, and I saw that face too. I had never seen it either, but there isn't any doubt about it. It was evil.

"Cal," I whisper, squeezing his hand. He comes back to reality with a jolt, and seems surprised to have revealed so much emotion to me. I let it pass unremarked. "I... I can't say that I understand what happened that day, or over the past months or years. I have tortured myself non-stop since we got here with what-ifs and am no better off for it. We might never know what happened to Maven, and honestly..." I try not to be too harsh with my next point, "I don't think it actually matters. What's done is done, and the boy we knew is gone. If he ever existed at all."

But Cal closes his eyes and shakes his head. "No Mare, he existed. I can promise you that, at least." He bows his head for a moment, deep in painful memories.

I'm glad his eyes are closed, so he cannot see the effect his words have on me. If he saw my face now, it would ruin the fragile relationship we have forged since our mutual betrayal. But my chest is heaving with suppressed sobs, and my eyes are thick with tears. _Don't say that!_ I scream at Cal in my head. My heart just can't take it. I can almost deal with Maven being evil all along and heartlessly deceiving me. I cannot handle the thought that my prince was real and made the choice to destroy me.

My princess training serves me well, and by the time Cal looks up at me I have my features back to neutral. Well, not neutral, but with just enough of the sadness he would and should expect from me, given the topic. Not the emotional mess I am smothering beneath.

"Thank you, Mare," he says, giving me a sad smile. "I have been tortured by that thought for months. I thought no-one would understand..." he trails off and pulls me into a hug. "Thank the stars, at least I have you."

My heart is a stone as we turn back the way we came and return to our silence. This time, at least on my side of things, the silence is not as companionable. I care about Cal, of course I do. Our relationship is more than just friendship, I cannot deny that. But I also can't agree with him. He doesn't have me. Not all of me.

Soon, we hear the crackling of the fire and rejoin our companions. My emotions are fully under control now, and I ask Garrick for a rematch. He agrees readily and we swap places on the lake with Farley and Harris. I return my thoughts to training for the trials ahead. Maven is planning a festival for the first day of spring. Everyone is invited.

It would be rude not to attend.


End file.
